


A Family of Crows

by Galaxy_Raven



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-11-03 16:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17881025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Raven/pseuds/Galaxy_Raven
Summary: A Series of moments from the life of Zevran and Ciembe as they build their life and family together.





	1. Chapter 1

Sweat clung to her brow as she screamed, the pain across her abdomen sending convulsions through her body. She tasted blood in her mouth, the iron sharp and familiar.

“Amor, look at me.” Ciembe turned her eyes towards Zevran, forcing them to focus as she panted. He gripped her hand, letting her squeeze tight as the contractions hit. “You can do this.”

She gave out another shriek, squeezing so hard that, if she could, she would have been concerned about breaking Zevran’s hand. He just murmured comforting words to her, Antivan mixing with trade, his other hand dabbing a cloth to her forehead, gentle and attentive.

“I can see the head now, just a few more pushes!” Anders called to her, standing by the bed behind her legs, her legs spread and shaking from the strain.

It was by sheer chance, or if Mahariel had her say, Creators blessed that they found Anders in Kirkwall. They tried to make it to the clan, but the baby wouldn’t wait. They ended up in Kirkwall, the baby sending Ciembe into premature labor all along the journey, but her water broke when they hit the city. Zevran tried to steer her towards an inn, somewhere that wasn’t the street, but she just got this determined look and dragged him through the streets, fighting the contractions as they came faster and faster, into the darker parts of the city, led by Maker knows what. When they stumbled into Anders clinic, Zev knew. The taint, the grey warden taint had brought them where they needed to be, the connection between the wardens acting like a beacon and in just enough time.

“Push now!” Anders shouted.

Ciembe screamed and convulsed, cursing at Fen’Harel, her back arching as she strained, muscles taut. Zevran’s heart shuttered, lost at what to do, what to say to his love, her pain cutting him, helpless to relieve it. Weak.

Suddenly, she fell back, breathing heavy, eyes unfocused, her vice-like grip on his hand going limp, her hair damp and clinging to her brow. Zevran caressed her cheek, concerned. But his head snapped away from her when he heard the cry, a soft baby’s cry.

“It’s a girl.” Anders said, cleaning the now screaming little form in his arms. She had her mother’s lungs. She…

She. A daughter.

Zevran found his steps hesitant, nervous, as he approached the mage, looking down at the impossibly tiny thing he held.

“Here, be sure to support her head.” Anders set her in Zevran’s arms, wrapped just in a meager blanket. He had to keep them from shaking, wonder blossoming in his chest as he looked down at this perfect little life. The smallest bit of black hair, weighing less than his best dagger, if he could gage that. Tiny ears, gently pointed. As she settled into his arms, her cries softened, and his wonder only grew.

He never imagined, in all his years, that he would be a father, that he  _could_  be a father. Life with the Crows did not allow such things, such weaknesses.

And oh, this was a weakness.

As his eyes took in his daughter, he knew he would destroy the world to protect her. Her and her mother.

“Ciembe?” Anders voice broke him from his musings, his gaze falling to Mahariel and his heart almost stopped. Her eyes were closed, the ink from her vallaslin stark against her unnaturally paled skin, sickly. Lifeless.

No…  

“Amor!” Zevran moved to her side, wanting to do something, but he had his daughter in his arms. Shifting her to his left arm, his other went to his love’s face. She was…cold. He couldn’t see her breathing. Thoughts flashing, panic setting in, his mind screaming no! “Help her! Please!” Zevran begged.

Anders was already moving, starting to glow, worrying Zevran more, but then Wynne glowed when she healed, too. “Step back, I need room!” Anders ordered, magic building around him.

Zevran stepped back, reluctantly, pulling his daughter to his chest, as she started crying again, seeming to sense the distress. Zevran tried to calm her, soothing words in Antivan, whether they were for her or him, he wasn’t sure. His eyes darted between Ciembe and his daughter. His love…she wasn’t moving.

This was his fault. He should have known. He killed his own mother in childbirth…and now his love…

Zevran found himself praying, to the Maker, the Creators, to whoever would listen. He would sell his soul if only she would breath again.

His gaze faltered as he looked down at his daughter. How could he raise her alone? NO! Ciembe must live, she has to…

Zevran didn’t know if he could survive if she didn’t.

 

**

 

Zevran paced the small room, holding his daughter close. He was finding it difficult to breath, his eyes constantly shifting back to where the mage worked, where his love lay. He refused to let a single tear fall, to admit that she could be gone. He paced and he felt…weak. Helpless.

In what seemed like an eternity, Anders stepped back, his hand to his head, the glowing fading.

Zevran had to fight to speak. “Is she…?”

“Zevran…” Her voice sent shocks of relief through him. He rushed to her side, bending to set his forehead to hers, his eyes finding hers. She was weak, groggy, but she was alive!

“Amor, I thought I had lost you.” Zevran whispered, tears streaming freely, finally. A rough hand met his face, caressing the side of his jaw, wiping away his tears.

“I’m still here.” She whispered back. She smirked faintly up at him, “It takes more than that to kill me. I helped take down an Archdemon, you know.”

“You are going to be the death of me.” He choked out in a laugh. She continued to stroke the side of his face, her familiar touch soothing him.

“Is the baby…?” She asked, fear in her voice for the first time as she struggled to sit up.

Straightening, he helped to prop Ciembe up and then he settled their daughter in her arms. “She is perfect, my dear warden. Just like her mother.”

Ciembe looked down in amazement at her daughter, their daughter. It was the most perfect sight Zevran had ever seen. The two people he cared, he loved, most in the world here.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his arms encircling his love as they both looked down at their daughter, now calm. Zevran felt his love’s shoulders shake, as she started crying. He barely heard her whisper, “what did I ever do to deserve you?”

He held her closer, the thought echoing in him, what did he ever do to deserve  _them_?  

His eyes flicked up, seeing Anders trying to give them space, wiping his hands off. “Thank you, my friend.” And he was his friend. How could he be anything else when he had saved his love?

Anders nodded, a soft smile on his tired face.

“Thank you, Anders.” Ciembe said. “Da’len, your Uncle Anders brought you into the world, what do you think about that?” Ciembe cooed the words to their daughter. Anders looked surprised, struck by Ciembe’s words.

“Uncle?”

Ciembe arched a brow at him, her familiar smirk spreading across her face. “Unless you don’t want the job, though I will warn you, I will be offended if you refuse.”

It didn’t take long for a smile to cover Anders face, “I…accept.” He shook his head. “I will go get some more water.” Slipping through the rough curtains that separated the meager room from the rest of the clinic, he was gone, leaving them alone.  

His left arm around Ciembe, Zevran’s right hand went to his daughter again, still not believing that she was real. Her little hand grabbed at his, her tiny fist gripping his pinkie. His heart melted, falling more in love by the minute.

“What should we call her, Amor?” Zevran asked softly.

As he asked, their daughter’s eyes fluttered open, amber gold and clear, looking up at the world for the first time. “What about Carmen?” Ciembe suggested.

Looking down at her, he smiled. “Carmen…I cannot think of a more perfect name, Amor.” He kissed her head and together, they marveled at their daughter, adoration on their faces.

Zevran was left with the though, clear and true, his family was his weakness. Oh, they were his weakness…and he would not have it any other way.  


	2. Words Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciembe and Zevran return to Denerim with their daughter. They must come to terms with their relationship and their own feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a little heated, so kinda nsfw?

The castle is still around them, quiet actually filling the room, blessed quiet. Carmen was asleep in the adjoining room, content to lay in the royal crib.

They actually had a moment alone together.

Mahariel had been planning this for some time. Since leaving Kirkwall, they had returned to Amaranthine, to Vigil’s Keep. They were greeted with hugs and questions, Sigrun and Velanna cooing over the babe, and Nathanial actually smiled when he held her. Ciembe and Zevran slipped into a form of domesticity, Ciembe still building her strength back up from the pregnancy, both of them dotting on their daughter.

But, after 6 months there, Ciembe was getting restless. Instead of heading off on adventures, Zevran convinced her that they should visit the royals.

Thus, they were in Denerim, guests of the King and Queen of Ferelden, in the best guest rooms. A luxurious bed waiting for them, wine, food, a fire burning bright in the hearth. It was perfect.

Zevran held a glass of red wine in his hand, the firelight painting shadows across his face.

_Creators, he is so beautiful._

Ciembe’s eyes traced the lines of his face. The little scars, his proud nose, the way his lips cupped the glass…

Setting her own glass down, Ciembe moved, quick as a flash, until she was straddling her love. He quirked an eyebrow at her, smiling, his hand moving to rest on her back.

“Amor, you look quite determined.”

“I am, Zevran.” She kissed him playfully, the taste of wine on both of their lips. She reached her hand behind his head, angling it up towards her, deepening the kiss, warmth and wine and tongue. Her other hand reached for the wineglass, still in Zevran’s grasp and moved it to the side, out of the way. Both hands free, he moved them to her waist, caressing and teasing, her nightdress ridding up to give him access.

She felt light and content. Kissing Zevran was all warmth and care and passion. Like a summer day you never wanted to end.

Grinding against him just so, he grasped, just enough for her to smirk and bite at his lip, fingers twining into his hair, silky and long.

She had missed this closeness. With the baby, nights were just for sleep, to get what little sleep they could before Carmen woke. Zevran still held her close on those nights, but the passion was held off, anytime things started to heat up, he would push back, murmuring concerns about her health, that she needed her rest, Carmen would wake soon.

Ciembe agreed each time, content just to be close to him. But now, with Carmen sleeping through the night and in the safety of the capitol, Ciembe intended to remind Zevran how good they were together, how much she loved him.

Her fingers pulled at his shirt, loosening it until she could feel his skin, his lean muscles. Breaking the kiss just long enough to remove the article, diving back in for more, nipping at his now swollen lips.

Zevran had been busy, too. Her breastband had mysteriously disappeared, the ties on her dress undone, and Zevran was skillfully making use of this fact, his palms cupping and kneading, sending waves of desire through her.

Ciembe rocked against him, feeling him beneath her. Moving to untie his leggings, deft hands reaching-

“Amor, perhaps we should call it a night.” Zevran said, tensed and pulling back suddenly. Ciembe froze, her eyes questioning, confused.

“Zevran, is something wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just think we should use the bed while we can.”

Ciembe smirked, pulling him up with her, “So concerned with the bed, are you? Hmm.” She kissed his palm. “It has been some time since we had a proper bed.” She flashed a wanton smile to him. 

Leading him towards it, she tugged at his waistband, sitting on the edge, starting to pull him on top of her.

But he resisted, pulling back and just placing a kiss on her head. “Amor, we should rest.”

Ciembe raised her eyebrow, conflicted emotions playing across her face. “Zev, what is going on? If you are not in the mood, fine, but it has been 9 months. I thought…” She didn’t know how to put into words what she was feeling. Lonely? Unwanted? So much of their relationship was filled with passion and intimacy, the last several months had left little room for such things. It left her feeling unsure about them. Did having a child really change their relationship so much?  

“I’m just tired. We should both get some rest.” He was evading. She could see it in his eyes. He was hiding something from her.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Zevran, what aren’t you telling me?”

“There is nothing to tell-”

“Fen'harel's ass there isn’t! I can tell you are hiding something!” She pushed him away, not violently, just enough to give her space to stand up, to pace. She ran her fingers through her long black hair and retied her top. She paused when she reached the fireplace, wrapping her arms around her. “You haven’t touched me since Carmen was born, not like before.” She hated the uncertainty in her own voice, the inconceivability of the thoughts she was having. “Are you not attracted to me now?” She whispered the question. She had heard of such things, men who lose interest after the child is born. But she never thought that was how it would be with Zev...

Gone was the confident woman who faced down an archdemon. Gone was the woman who quipped and flirted. She felt adrift, her foundation, her love, uncertain.   

She felt his arms encircling her, his breath against her shoulder. “Amor, how could you ask that?” She could hear the sincerity in his voice, but her worries were still there. She didn’t understand.

Ciembe pulled away, turning to face him, his own distress matching her own. “What am I supposed to think?”

“Ciembe, I love you.” He looked stricken, helpless.

“Then why?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you.” He was deflecting.

_Creators, I can’t-we can’t go on like this._

Ciembe reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, to look her in the eyes. “WHY?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you!” Zevran exclaimed, hurt and worry thick in his voice, his accent thicker than usual. He stumbled back, as if struck by his own outburst.

Ciembe stood shook still. This was not the answer she was expecting. Stepping closer, her hand reached out to his cheek, gentle, soothing. She could see tears in his eyes now.

“You aren’t going to lose me, Zevran.” She keep her voice even, delicate, as she puzzled through his reaction.

He gave a rueful chuckle. “Oh my dear warden, so fearless, so sure. I almost lost you once, I won’t risk it again.”

The pieces fell into place then. Her near death experience when Carmen was born, the exceedingly gentle, but distant affections from her love…

_How could I have missed this?_

Moving right up to him, she hugged him tight, pushing as much affection as she could into the motion. “Zevran, I’m not made of glass.” 

The muffled sound of cries reached them then, their outburst having woken their daughter. They separated, but both moved to the side room. Opening the door, they found Carmen crying for attention, her little fists waving in the air.

Zevran reached her first, pulling her gently up into his arms. “Shh, mi Corazon, no llores.” His gentle murmurs eased her cries, her bright golden eyes captivated by his face. Which of them was more captivated by the other, who could say.

Ciembe leaned against the doorframe, watching her family. Zevran continued to whisper words of comfort to her, but he wasn’t looking at Mahariel, he wouldn’t look at her.

_How do I make him see? What do I do? Creators…_

It was not long before Carmen had drifted back to sleep, lulled by the soft words of her father. He gently kissed her forehead and set her back in the crib, placing her blanket over her.

He finally looked at Ciembe. His expression was masked, but his body had gone tense. She just took his hand and tugged him from the room, quietly shutting the door behind them.

They stood there, awkwardly, neither saying anything.

“Vhenan,” Ciembe said, stepping close. Zevran’s shoulders were still tense, showing his anxiety clearly. “Ir abelas.” She ran her hands down his arms, intertwining her fingers with his. She leaned forward, a familiar motion that he met, their foreheads touching, tension slowly easing from his body. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hands. “I didn’t realize how you felt.”

“I didn’t realize that you worried. I should have, but I didn’t.” She leaned back, looking up into his eyes. “It was a miracle that we have Carmen. With the taint, I didn’t think having children was possible, not without intervention.” Ever so slowly, she started leading him to the bed. “It is unlikely that it is even possible for me to become pregnant again, Zev.” Closer still, he started to speak, but she stopped him with a look. “But, there is still a chance. So, we will be careful. I will talk to Cousland tomorrow about getting some Witherstalk extract. That will keep me from pregnancy.” Having reached the bed, she pulled him closer to her. “Don’t push me away, Vhenan.”

Zevran held her, the final bits of tension leaving his body as he wrapped his arms around her. “Amor, Ciembe, I didn’t mean to push you away. I did not want to make you feel unwanted. Perdoname.”

“Te perdono, Zevran. I will always forgive you.”

With those weighted words said, they curled up together on the bed, Ciembe holding him against her chest, combing her fingers through his hair.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. They had talked. They would heal. They would be stronger together. They would be a stronger family. 

_Thank the Creators. I love him so. I can't lose him._


End file.
